“Yeah,” Dillon grunted, “I’m damn tired. Get into bed for Gawd’s sake.”
She put the comb down on the dressing-table and came over to him. She sat on the bed, looking at him with glittering eyes. “Shall I come in with you?” she almost snarled at him.
Dillon’s heavy face hardened. He sat up on his elbow. “Didn’t I tell you I’m beat?” he snapped. “Get into bed. I wantta sleep.”
“Too tired, even for love?” The gritty, suppressed rage startled him into wakefulness.
“What the hell’s this?” he said. “Can’t I get tired sometimes?”
“Not the way you’ve been gettin’ tired,” she shrilled. “I’m on to you—”
Dillon pulled back the bedclothes and swung his feet to the floor. He reached out and gripped her throat in his hand. She struck at him wildly, but his arm was too long. He held her away from him.
“That’s the way it is, huh?” he said softly. “You’re gettin’ too big for your pants. Jest because you’ve been laid a few times you think you can talk big. Okay, sister, here it is.”
He smacked her across her face hard with his open hand, at the same time releasing his grip on her throat. She fell off the bed and rolled on the floor. He kicked her hard in her ribs with his bare foot. She slid away with the force of the kick across to her own bed.
“Now get to sleep an’ shut your trap. You ain’t got anythin’ more than any other woman… get it?”